


Black

by rawvomit



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, F/M, Guilty Gamzee, M/M, Oneshot, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Sadstuck, spoilers?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 04:49:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rawvomit/pseuds/rawvomit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After so long in the dark, you don't know how to handle the light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black

Shameless, aren't you?

As you walk, you drag your feet against the cold floor in slow lumbering steps. You aren't too graceful while you move, it's more like you sort of conveniently never fall down, and sway just in time from tripping over anything. Your pants make nearly silent shifting sounds as the cloth rubs against itself, and you aren't wearing anything on your feet to keep the cold away. You feel every ridge and bump in the hard concrete as your toes are shuffled along the ground.

It's dark in here.

Not like something like that has ever bothered you before, let alone now as you have been practically molded by the shadows. You were raised in the darkness. That isn't something you are alone in either, as it is – or rather - was the curse of your whole species to be raised in the dark. Born in caverns cast in shadows, far underground. You have all been bred under black skies and dim stars. You yourself had been alone in the dark for a very long time especially, forced to stare out into petulant black waters that churned unfavourably with not even the company of your lusus to keep you from staring overlong. You fed yourself sick with dark elixir, combatting it with the only glow you could ever hope to know. Sopor, as a comfort now seems a ridiculous thought to you.

It was if you believed a candle could do a world of difference inside a black hole.

Your very blood bled rich, thick, shaded purple, not unlike the horizon before the sun would lift up into the sky. One of the last shadows to be chased away, caught between night and day.

It really isn't that different from you, in metaphorical theory. Trapped in the confines of these air vents, crawling with your elbows and knees through claustrophobic spaces, careful not to be caught by the glow of a girl who was brought up under the light of the terrible sun. What a pitiable opposite to yourself.

But if we're all done with even more heinous metaphors, we'll continue with what you were doing.

Karkat's asleep, and what a strange thing it is to see him doing just that. Your head falls to the side, to rest on your own shoulder as you scuffle closer to your friend.

Your best friend, in fact.

Your motherfucking best, palest friend.

Of course the idea of sleep had come a lot easier to Karkat long after you all had met up with the humans, and maybe it was after he relinquished any and all responsibility as a leader, but it was still strange of you to see. Perhaps because you are too often stuffed between the walls of this wretched asteroid you aren't often granted the option to spy on the little guy. Whenever you do peek on him he isn't sleeping. He's mostly arguing with that blasphemous motherfucking shitkicking human or isolating himself from the others.

He always looks miserable.

As you draw closer, you notice he doesn't look comfortable or peaceful while he sleeps. It's as if he's never been granted permission to be relaxed for even the briefest of moments. Not even while he rests. Of course, he's resting on your hornpile as well, which by the feedback you retrieved from your friends long before you took to painting with their blood, wasn't the most comfortable sleeping apparatus. He stirs for a moment and you pause as your head straightens. You're more than prepared to slide back into the shadows from where you came.

When he doesn't wake, you reach out to him, and you're fingers hover above his forehead. You ghost them down over the bridge of his nose, down across his cheekbones, under his eyes. An almost intimate gesture as you bring your digits around his jawline, still never to touch him.

You let them linger just above his lips.

He's terribly warm.

Anytime that you have come in close contact with him it seems like he has always pulsated such immense heat. Like all his passion and red hot hate is bottled inside of his blood, incubating him from the inside. Your own skin is dreadfully cold, nearly as though you've been sucked of any life at all. There is nothing inside you that beats as beautifully as it does within Karkat.

Your hand drops to your side.

Truly, you are shameless.

You can't bring yourself to be near him because it's no longer fair of you to want to touch him.

You are a dark sin broken across him, you've betrayed him in secret and thought it crosses your mind to stop, you can't bother to bring yourself to.

Looking down at your hands, you outstretch your long fingers before you.

Terrible and unforgiving, the skin of your palms have been stained with the lively miracle that flooded your friend's veins. A brilliant, macabre spectrum that you were responsible for, that you have been forgiven for. By him.

And not only after he helped you wash away the colour, not only after he pulled you back from your murderous, religious ecstasy, you turned away from him and took to the shadows one of the only things he has let himself care for.

As you pinned her and rocked against her, as she clawed at your back and circled her thin legs around your hips, you put him out of your mind. While you sank your teeth into her neck and as she dug her fingernails into your scalp, you didn't think of him. You never thought about how Karkat would feel if he knew, you never cared how much you were hurting him. You wondered if the motherfucking bitch herself even gave a shit. The hate you two exhibited for each other marked out the soft pale colours for Karkat.

But after, every time after, it comes back. It comes back a little more wounded, and hurt, and you can practically feel your brother being crushed under your own pursuits. There is a great and selfish red interest that flares within you and you want to encircle your hands around his small wrists. You want to heal everything you've done to him with that passion that's trapped under his own skin. You want to utilize that beautiful, miraculous motherfucking candy red and drown him in the warmth.

But it's too hard to think about.

You shove it out of your thinkpan and it's much easier to deal with the broken pale diamond then it is to be red underneath of all this black you've slathered yourself in. Though ignorant to them he might be, you have still left him floundering alone out here in his pool of self loathing.

Brushing your fingers through his hair in a moment of indulgence, you raise your eyes up and there she is at the door, her eyes burning that condemned fucking hue and there's only a burning rage as her lip turns up at you. It's not just for your usual hatebliss, but for touching him, for dragging the pads of your fingers against his warm scalp, for daring to be affectionate towards him at all.

Her chest heaves with a heavy breath and you slip away.

You don't want to deal with her right now, your stomach feels rotten with all this blackness sloshing inside of you.

You look back at him and feel the soft pale glow grow a little dimmer.

And as shameless as you are

You'll leave him alone in the dark.

**Author's Note:**

> im so sorry this is awful


End file.
